This hurricane shit is MEAN. We got the lamest part of the storm and are still knocked on our asses… No power yet at the apartment…

Oh, the good news is that all of the food in the fridge has gone bad and there is a stale smell upon entrance. A nice layer of “sticky” has covered the floor, and it’s hot as hell outside… The reason that I use the word “good” in regards to this news is that the people in Louisiana are not going to be this lucky… I just read about this dudes rood being blown off… I guess I am pretty lucky.



On a lighter note, Carrie, Jamie and I went to the mall to go shopping yesterday. After consuming some sort of Starbucks concoction, strolling through “Strange Cargo” and buying half the store, we found ourselves leaning over the side rail to look at a little blonde boy with red shoes on the first floor. This boy, all harnessed to a leash that his sister was holding, was running around like a crazy chicken man, receiving a swift tug from behind whenever he got too far ahead.

Watching his smiling face as he ran around a fountain made me wish that I could be placed on a leash and allowed to drag some poor person behind. Honestly, the kid should be used for advertisements for this product, because he made it look like the most AMAZING experience on the planet. His older sister also seemed very entertained, running behind him, slowing down just enough to tug the leash and stop him in his tracks, yielding laughter from both… We must have watched these two circle this fountain about ten times before heading to Sears.

This got me thinking about the moment that people decide that they can not run anymore (along with about a million childhood memories of me with my brother). When does this happen? When do people decide it is too dangerous or they would look too “silly” to all out sprint? 25? 30?40? 50?… When was the last time you gave it a try?


It’s a bad Monday when you are ready for it to be a Friday.